


Queen of Sheba

by SapphoIsBurning



Category: Iskryne Series - Elizabeth Bear & Sarah Monette, Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, F/M, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Psychic Wolves, Wolves Made Them Do It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:22:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lieutenant Abbie Mills and her sister Sheba fight the forces of Moloch and the trellspawn who worship him.  Ichabod Crane and his brother Cicero aren't sure what to do with a 21st century where women warriors bond with trellwolves as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen of Sheba

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You Just Brace and You Breathe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/282228) by [Dira Sudis (dsudis)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsudis/pseuds/Dira%20Sudis). 



> Written for the Psychic Wolves for Lupercalia challenge. My third fic ever, and longest one to date.

_Prologue: years earlier._

Abbie's wolf scent-named her as "warm fabric softener and damp metal". Of course she had to meet her sister straight from doing laundry at the coin-op.  While wolves didn’t always give their sisters or brothers a name related to what they actually smelled like on a day-to-day basis, it wasn’t unheard of.  Abbie had changed into her uniform in the small bathroom of the Laundromat before heading over to the birthing den.

The bitch pup had locked eyes with her right away. As soon as she walked into the basement of the municipal building, she knew her sister would be there and that she would bond. The building was serving as a breeding and nesting facility for the law enforcement and public safety wolves of Sleepy Hollow and the surrounding townships. Despite its brutalist architecture, it was a warm and comforting place on the inside--a deep hole lined with the equivalent of belly fur, moss, and leaves.

The pup's scent name was "dusty shelves".  Apparently, her mother the konigenwolf Bailey (scent name: road salt and thawing ice) spent a lot of time exploring archives, antiquing, or doing some kind of research with her brother, Sherriff August Corbin.  Abbie didn't know what they were up to for sure, but she respected Corbin enough to not give him shit about his hobbies, or whatever.  But all Bailey’s pups had scent-names like that: “tomb dust”, “crumbling parchment”, “swinging iron gate on a cold, damp night”.  Some bitches were practical, and some were romantic.

The pup's blue eyes assessed Abbie with their gaze.  "There goes that impostor syndrome," she muttered to herself disdainfully. 

Corbin gave her a look.  "Abbie, don't sell yourself short.  You have every right to be here, as much as any other rookie working for me."

(She could practically feel Morales rolling his eyes from where he slouched on an industrial couch on the other side of the den, while his brother Soap slept in his lap.)

"I know in the old days women never bonded with wolves, but we've put that behind us here in Sleepy Hollow and maybe the rest of the country will catch up to us someday."  Corbin nodded affirmatively while saying this.  If he believed it, so should the rest of the world, right?

But a bitch pup.  A konigenwolf-in-training.  She didn't know if she could handle it.  What if she fought for territory with Bailey?  What if Abbie couldn't handle the breeding?  In her mind, she knew Corbin would help her through it all, but if her life had taught her anything that it was to trust no one other than herself.

But having a sister was all *about* trust.  Trust in a system greater than yourself; trust in a history greater than you and your companion.  Trust that it was all worth it, in the end, not just in the lives you would be able to save but in the life you would build together.

Abbie locked eyes with the pup.  The pup sat back on her haunches with pride, aiming a level and commanding gaze at Abbie.

"Look at you," Abbie cooed.  "Who do you think you are, the Queen of Sheba?"

Corbin chuckled and shook his head, scratching Bailey between the ears.  "Sheba's a good name for a sister, you know."

"I know."

* * *

_Present day:_

Ichabod woke.  He leaned over: expecting to find warm fur, he felt nothing but the stiff sheets of the hotel bed where he was temporarily quartered.  Hmm.

He called out to Cicero, his brother, in what remained of his pack sense after the two of them slept for 200 years and lost nearly every man and wolf they had ever known.  He felt him nearby but beyond the reach of his arm.  Cicero peered out the window, nosing the rough venetian blinds aside.  Excitement washed through their psychic bond and into Ichabod; Lieutenant Mills and her sister Bathsheba approached from the gravel driveway.

The lieutenant and her companion were two of the few residents of this strange future that Cicero seemed to trust implicitly.  If only it were this easy for humans; wolves didn't, couldn't lie to each other.  As far as Sheba was concerned, Cicero had taken a very long nap with his brother, and they were both here to help her and her sister now.  Abbie would take more convincing.

Crane rolled out of bed, pulling on his pants and coat.  While people in 2013 seem to have divested themselves of modesty generations ago, he could preserve a shred of his dignity.

Abbie knocked overhand four times on the motel door.  She felt Sheba scoff.  "I know I cop knock, okay?  Give me a break."  She also felt Sheba's excitement.  She project a very strong image of "MALE WOLF" through their bond.  "Don't you think he's a little old for you?  Never mind, that joke is over your head."

Crane answered, fastening the cuffs of his shirt.  "Miss Mills, my brother informed me of your approach."

"Funny how things never change."

Crane cocked an eyebrow.  "Lieutenant, in my time it was unthinkable that a woman would bond to a wolf, let alone be employed in safeguarding the public welfare.  Everything changes."

"Everything except wolves."

Sheba panted. 

Crane inclined his head.  "Everything except wolves."

* * *

 They exited the SUV with caution.  Abbie checked her sidearm and grabbed a long blade from the stash in the backseat for good measure, sheathing it in her belt.  Crane hefted a double-bladed axe.

The wolves poured out from the rear hatch.  Sheba pricked her ears, listening for signs of movement inside the decrepit farmhouse.  They were following up on a lead from some reports of nighttime disturbances in the area.  Crane suspected that wyverns were working in concert with Moloch and his demons in the area, but Abbie was skeptical.

Sheba let out a low growl as she stalked away from the house and toward a patch of woods to the east.  She scented...could it be?  How could trolls have come this far south without anyone noticing?

Before Abbie knew what was happening, the wolves with noses to the ground drew them all further into the woods.  The world grew dark, and the air chilled.  One troll stepped out of the trees.  Then another.  Then four more swarmed up over a ridge off to their left... 

Sheba and Cicero snarled and waited for the command to charge.  Abbie felt queasy, but with a glance at Crane gave the mental order to attack.  She took aim and fired at the closest one. 

The bullet shattered the being and it crumbled as if it were made of dust.  Cicero leapt to tear the throat out of a warrior, but as soon as his teeth closed on its throat it crumbled and blew away in the wind.  Crane cleaved two more into bits with a swing of his battle axe.

The clouds of evil dust reformed into more trolls, flanking Crane.  He took a claw to the shoulder, crying out, before Abbie was able to take one down with her Glock.  Sheba reared up on her hind legs, snapping at the other and finally connecting, shattering it.

"Fucking putty patrol!" Abbie swore.

More shots rang out, and the wolves howled fiercely with bloodlust.  Finally, the trolls could respawn no more and an ominous cloud of dust spiraled into the wind.  The darkness parted.

"Are trolls working for Moloch now, or is Moloch imitating the enemies of humans to trick us?" Crane wondered silently.  Cicero let everyone know through the pack sense how little he cared about where these monsters came from or who they were working for, but that he was glad to fight them wherever they raised their heads.

Sheba whined and pressed against Crane's side, nosing him.  "I'm fine," he assured her, but Abbie raised an eyebrow.  She looked at his arm.  "I've had worse."  She chuckled.  "I was in a war!  Lieutenant.  Surely..."

Sheba insistently reminded them of Corbin's cabin, their safe haven.  Abbie had spent many an evening being patched up from skirmishes with trolls and wyverns in outlying townships; she knew the cabin was stocked with all the supplies they would need and would be well protected from any threat, be it trell or demonic.

A feeling of wrongness nagged deeply at Abbie, like she was forgetting something, but she desperately wanted to shower and rest, and make sure her skinny companion was fed and watered (and oh, the wolves too).  She have her silent assent, and headed back to the truck.  Crane and the wolves followed, Sheba taking her six, ever alert for additional threats.

* * *

Crane collapsed into the cabin, and Abbie followed.  The wolves whined, circled, and looked up at the humans, projecting a strong sense of woods, deer, running, water: they wanted to go outside, despite the snow that had begun to fall as they drove into the woods.

“Oh fine, go,” Abbie said, shooing them out the door.

They settled down to the work of cleaning Ichabod's flesh wound of troll filth.  Abbie poured them both a drink while Crane peeled off his coat.

"I'm sorry, Crane, but I don't think we'll be able to save it."

"You don't look that sorry.  You wish only for me to don those wretched 'skinny jeans' and a 'hoodie' for your own dreadful amusement."

Abbie chuckled.  "Well, that would be a bonus..."

They fell into a companionable silence.  Crane moved to build a fire in the fireplace.  Wind began to howl outside the cabin. 

They could sense their two wolves chasing each other with joy; despite Cicero’s chronological age, he deferred to the young konigenwolf.  At only two years old, she was already a commanding presence, when she was not overcome by a sudden surge of puppy-like playfulness. 

“Did I ever tell you General Washington’s sister was called Bathsheba?”  Crane quirked an eyebrow.

“He had a sister?" Abbie gaped.  "One more thing that never made it into the history books…”

“Yes, well, from what I know of your present world, imagining your first President engaged in lupine intercourse would be quite a shock.  Although he was always quite up to the task."

Abbie's eyes grew wide.

Crane continued, either not noticing her surprise or choosing to ignore it.  "Cicero was quite fond of Bathsheba.  I wonder if any of their descendants are still alive today."

"Wait.  Let me get this straight.  You and George Washington?"

"You are bonded to a female wolf, Miss Mills, I should hope you wouldn't be surprised about what can go on between wolfbrothers."  He cleared his throat.  "And wolfsisters, I presume?"

"Oh, believe me, I've taken the whole course."  She rolled her eyes.  "It was like high school health class all over again.  Except...squishier."

"Well, I don't know what this 'health class' is but I'm sure it's better than wolfless Oxford dons trying to explain the process without referring to any part of the human anatomy."

They fell silent again.  Snow fell harder outside the window.  Abbie's attention was drawn back to her sister, who nipped at Cicero, then dodged, then nipped.  She felt a faint stirring behind her solar plexus.  The room felt hot.  She stared into the fire and took another drink of her rum.  How did this man fall into her life?

"How did Katrina feel about that?  You and...um."

"What do you mean?  She was well informed when she chose to marry me.  It was quite unconventional for wolfbrothers to marry at all, but she was quite persistent."

In time, the wolves returned, scratching at the door and panting.

Opening the door, Crane saw the drifting snow outside. "My, there is quite a blizzard out here.  We might be staying a little longer than we planned for.  Then again, I don't have anywhere else to be."

Later, they collapsed into restless sleep with their companions beside them: Abbie and Sheba on the bed, Crane and Cicero by the fire.

* * *

 Abbie woke with a start.  Sheba was pacing back and forth around the bedroom, whining and pawing.  She felt in both of them a strong sense of irritation and of need.

"Oh no," she gasped, realizing what was happening.  Her sister's heat was coming on, fast and very early.  She had not been prepared for this to happen for months from now.  She had heard of bitches going into heat early and often during wartime; she should have guessed that the apocalypse would count just the same.

She peeked out the window.  They were snowed in--the drifts were high and she could barely see to the treeline.  She swore to herself.  Sheba growled low in her throat and her need echoed loudly in Abbie's mind.

Something slammed into the door from the other side.  She felt Crane chastise his brother and struggle to hold him back.  "Miss Mills, about those health classes!" Crane shouted.  "Please tell me you've done this before."

"Only once."  She thought back to Sheba's first breeding.  It had been with Soap, and his brother, Morales.  They had only become a couple after that, though it had recently soured.

The scratching and banging continued.  “Miss Mills, I can't stop my brother from breaking down this door to get to a bitch in heat.  I can only apologize in advance for my unpreparedness for such an encounter!”   His voice broke.  Abbie could feel his need too.  Her skin burned.  She could feel herself getting wet, her breasts aching with tenderness.

Sheba looked up at her.  “I guess I'm the only one with thumbs who can take care of this right now,” Abbie gulped.  She stood from the bed and opened the door.

Cicero collapsed into the room, toppling over a chair and nearly knocking over a dresser in his eagerness to get to Sheba.  Sheba growled warily, snapping at him.  As Abbie watched the wolves grapple, she felt strong hands on her.

She looked up at Crane.  His pupils were dilated with arousal, but he projected a strong sense of ambivalence.  She felt him wonder about being with a woman in their makeshift heat shack: he had never hesitated to roger a fellow man-at-arms, but would it be different with a...

Feeling the full force of her sister's need, Abbie was decisive.  "Does it matter?" she projected, pulling Crane to her and kissing him boldly and deeply.  He smiled into her kiss and let go of his resistance, wrapping his arms around her and dragging her down to the bed.  She followed gladly.  For now, they could only live in the moment and follow the instincts that had guided humans and trellwolves for countless generations.  And so they did.


End file.
